


An Arrangement

by satb31



Series: Valentine's Day Drabbles [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic, Fluff, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satb31/pseuds/satb31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Bahorel are good friends -- and they meet up every Thursday to have sex. </p>
<p>But now they need to tell their friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Arrangement

Enjolras and Bahorel had a ritual: every Thursday night, after the weekly meeting of Les Amis broke up, they would say their farewells and head off in separate directions. But within the hour the two men would reconnect at Enjolras's sparsely furnished apartment, where they would order takeout and catch up on the week’s news, which often led to shouting matches about politics and capitalism and the various problems of society.

And then they would retire to Enjolras’s bedroom and have sex.

The sex was amazing -- not that Enjolras had many points of comparison, although Bahorel, who had worked his way through many lovers before, assured him it was some of the best sex he had ever had. They matched each other well in both strength and stamina -- Enjolras was as well-muscled as Bahorel was wiry -- and each time they came together it ended with them llying on their backs, gasping for air, willing themselves to recover as quickly as they could so they could do it again.

Neither man could remember how it began -- Bahorel swore there was alcohol involved, but Enjolras maintained he was completely sober -- but they both agreed that they never wanted it to end. It was an arrangement that worked for them both: Bahorel wasn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with any of his various lovers, and Enjolras felt strongly that he shouldn’t. He had a movement to run, after all, and to get into a romantic entanglement seemed unwise.

Not that he was all that interested in such a thing anyway.

**  
They never meant to hide what was going on, but they didn’t go out of their way to tell anyone, either. Enjolras was a very private person, a byproduct of an upbringing where it was understood that there were certain things you didn’t talk about, such religion or money or sex. Bahorel was far more given to bragging about his sexual encounters, particularly when he was involved in a game of one-upsmanship with Bossuet or Grantaire, but he found himself unusually reticent about his relationship with Enjolras. He loved Enjolras as a friend, and it somehow felt cheap to brag about it, as if Enjolras was some sort of trophy to put on his mantel.

But it was inevitable that they would be found out eventually; theirs was a friend group of built on an intimacy born of their common cause, so secrets were never easily kept. It was Feuilly who discovered them first, on a Friday morning where he appeared on Enjolras’s doorstep and was greeted instead by a surprised Bahorel, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs; Feuilly said nothing, but his lips twitched into a smile as Enjolras stumbled out from behind Bahorel, tugging his bathrobe around his body. 

“So this is a thing?” he had asked, his dark eyes moving back and forth between the two men. 

“Yeah,” Bahorel replied, immediately taking a defensive stance, while Enjolras averted his eyes -- he loved Feuilly like a brother, and never wanted Feuilly to think less of him.

“Nice,” was Feuilly’s reply. “You want some croissants?”

And that was the end of it.

**  
After Feuilly’s discovery, word naturally started to spread -- first to Enjolras’s two best friends and the two men who knew him best, Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Feuilly had confided in Combeferre over cards one evening; at first, Combeferre was surprised and confused and perhaps even a little bit jealous of Bahorel, but he kept his counsel. He never spoke of it to Enjolras, and only acknowledged it once: on one Thursday evening, when Enjolras and Bahorel were chatting in the corner, Enjolras looked up and met Combeferre’s eyes: Combeferre simply nodded toward Bahorel and smiled.

For his part, Courfeyrac was more open and effusive about the whole thing, approaching Enjolras after a lecture one day. “So you and Bahorel, eh?” he said. “Man, that’s one I would have loved to add to my collection.”

“Who told you?” Enjolras asked, his eyes flashing with rage.

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac said levelly. “He felt it was important that I know. Not that I care. As long as you tell me all the gory details,” he teased.

Enjolras rolled his eyes -- but deep down, he knew that the support of his two best friends meant the absolute world to him.

**  
As time went on Bahorel finally felt comfortable confiding in those who were closest to him -- namely Joly and Bossuet, his frequent drinking and sparring partners. It took more than a little liquid courage to say the words, but they were well-received: Bossuet grinned and slapped him on the back, and Joly tried to offer some fashion advice.

“Do you honestly think Enjolras gives a shit about what pants I wear?” Bahorel asked him.

Joly chuckled. “Doesn’t sound like you spend much time in your pants when you’re together, to be honest,” he teased, earning himself a punch from Bahorel.

“So are you guys a couple now?” Bossuet asked, the tone of his voice betraying an excitement about the possibility that there was another couple among Les Amis other than himself and Joly.

“Are you asking if we’re going to be double dating with you guys?” Bahorel joked, then he paused. “Yeah, I don’t think so. It’s not that kind of thing, you know?” He flailed about helplessly, trying to describe their relationship -- but at a complete loss for words.

Joly and Bossuet looked at each other and shrugged, neither of them particularly bothered by this relationship with no name.

And Bahorel exhaled, happy that he no longer had to sneak around.

**  
But there were two members of Les Amis that both men were concerned about: Prouvaire and Grantaire. Bahorel knew he needed to tell the young poet -- there was no way he could be the only one not in the know -- but Prouvaire was a romantic in every aspect of the word, and the arrangement Bahorel and Enjolras had was a completely foreign concept to him. When Bahorel sat down and tried to explain it to him, Prouvaire blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“So you’re not in love, and you’re not in a relationship,” Prouvaire asked hesitantly, valiantly attempting to understand it. “So it’s just sex.”

“It’s not just sex -- not that there’s anything wrong with that if it were,” Bahorel said, hastily correcting himself. “I care a lot about Enjolras as a friend, and I think he feels the same way about me -- but it’s not a romantic thing. Not everyone needs or wants a relationship like that,” he explained patiently.

Prouvaire was silent for a moment, pondering this concept. “Are you happy?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” Bahorel said without a moment’s hesitation.

“Then that’s all that matters,” Prouvaire proclaimed, a shy smile finally creeping across his face.

**

The conversation with Grantaire was more difficult, mostly because Grantaire was more difficult -- and because he had a vested interest in this relationship. His crush on Enjolras was the worst kept secret among Les Amis -- even Enjolras, who tended toward the oblivious, recognized it and saw its futility. Bahorel offered to be the one to talk to him about it, but Enjolras insisted, theorizing that if it came from him, Grantaire may take it better.

He was wrong.

As soon as the words were out of Enjolras’s mouth Grantaire stalked out of the Musain, his face eyes dark with anger and his face red with embarrassment. Enjolras knew that as long as he remained abstinent, Grantaire held on to a tiny thread of hope that Enjolras would change his mind, that one day he would turn toward him and realize that all he ever wanted was a romantic relationship with the cynical young man.

But the relationship with Bahorel changed all of that.

Grantaire was missing for a long time -- for almost a week no one had heard from him, even when Combeferre would text or Prouvaire would call. That Thursday neither Bahorel and Enjolras could not put him out of their minds, and talked for hours about whether this was worth losing him for good.

But a few days later, Grantaire wandered into the Musain, unshaven and with dark circles under his eyes -- but alive and well. He wandered over to where Bahorel sat with Joly and Bossuet and put his hand on his shoulder.

“So tell me -- do you have to take that stick out of Enjolras’s ass before you fuck him?” he asked, his voice so loud it carried across the room to where Enjolras himself was sitting with Courfeyrac.

Bahorel laughed long and hard -- and then invited him to join him for a drink.

And he looked across the room and llifted his glass to toast Enjolras -- and the best group of friends in the world.


End file.
